Jazz clubs of the 20s would have been full of people looking for a good time, live Jazz music and dancing. If there was alcohol there, most of it would be under the legal limit of 1.5% alcohol. If they did serve anything else then it was hidden...aka, like a speakeasy.

This particular Jazz club has comfortable seating, warm lighting and a hearty atmosphere, the sounds of Jazz music coming from a small stage in one of the front corners. Tables and booths scattered throughout and a decent size kitchen for snacks and small meals.

The barkeep for this establishment is Mr. Murphy, who is also the owner.

((From the City))
Samara walked into the club and looked around. Good, there were quite a few people there but not so many as to overcrowd the place. She walked over to the bar area and ordered a drink.

Samara smiled as she was given her drink. Then she reached into her clutch purse and pulled out a small flask, dumping some of its contents into the drink. She took a drink. Much better than it would have been. 1.5% alcohol wasn't nearly enough.

She smiled. "Sure ya can." Samara turned to the barkeep. "Murphy another round...and the good stuff if you would."
Mr. Murphy looked at her for a moment then nodded, glancing around to make sure no one was watching before he grabbed an unlabeled bottle hidden in a secret shelf under the bar. Then he poured two glasses and quickly put the bottle away.

Samara looked around the club...and that's when she noticed the musicians stepping down for their break. Great...she had come here to dance and there wasn't going to be music anymore.
She looked back over at Aldo. "I think you'll like it at the Morgan's."